Unable To Drive, Nicklaus Ready To Park Career

July 19, 1992|By LARRY DORMAN, On Golf

GULLANE, Scotland -- The sun was setting over the Firth of Forth as Jack Nicklaus leaned on a railing outside the clubhouse at Muirfield, searching for a graceful way to make an exit. He was surrounded by autograph seekers, media people and memories. The grandstands were emptying.

Nicklaus, 52, had just missed the cut. Again. Like last month at Pebble Beach in the U.S. Open, Nicklaus was not a factor, was never in the tournament. His face reflected disappointment and a sort of melancholy as he searched for the words to sum it up.

``Pretty much this year, I have not been competitive,`` he said. ``I`ve said I`ll play golf as long as I can be competitive and as long as I can enjoy it. Those two go together. If I don`t start playing a little more competitive then I`ll just stop playing.``

As the Brits would say, there you have it. There was no qualification. It was the classic ``if-then`` construction. And there was more. He gave himself an ultimatum, something he has never done before.

``If this goes on for the rest of this year, I`m probably going to say the heck with it,`` Nicklaus said. ``I`ll probably play in one or two events next year and that will be it.``

Nicklaus was looking up at the scoreboard towering over the 18th hole as he spoke, and the numbers he saw were telling. Nick Faldo had just shot 64 and that went with his 66 for a record 36-hole total. Those are the kind of numbers Nicklaus once posted. Now he was 18 shots behind, meaning Faldo could give Nicklaus four shots a side and still beat him.

``That`s half a shot a hole for 36 holes,`` Nicklaus said, smiling a little rueful smile. ``I`m not very competitive when I`m 18 shots behind. So I`ve got to be realistic with myself. If that continues for a few more tournaments, then I`ll have enough of it.``

Last year Nicklaus made more money playing golf than in any year of his career. He embarked on a weight program to build his endurance so he could finish off tournaments. He was enthusiastic coming into the year, because three of the four major championships were at his favorite golf courses.

He has now missed the cut at Pebble and Muirfield, has a stroke average of 73.25 for the majors and has abandoned the weight program. The weapon that once made him the best player in the world, his driver, has deserted him. Once the longest and straightest driver in the game of golf, Nicklaus is now short and crooked off the tee.

``Driving,`` he said, ``has destroyed my game. My putting is fine, my short game, I`ve had a lot of practice at, but you`ve got to drive the ball. I don`t have the length I used to have, so I need to drive it straighter. If you can`t hit the ball over the bunkers, you have to drive it between them.

``Now I knock it in them.``

He has tried, by his estimate, some 40 drivers this year. ``It`s probably closer to 100, I don`t know,`` he said. If this sounds familiar, it should. It`s reminiscent of what happened to Arnold Palmer when his putting stroke left him about a decade ago. Palmer, 62, now has hundreds of putters in his garage. None of them work.

So now what? Nicklaus must decide. Between now and the PGA Championship at Bellerive in St. Louis, he will immerse himself in his golf course business. He`ll be making site visits to jobs at London, Italy, Agadir, Morocco, and he`ll do some fishing in Iceland before returning home. He`ll then have course openings at Cleveland, Santa Fe, N.M., and then practice for a week for the PGA.

His playing schedule, beyond that, includes just one certainty: the Nationwide Senior Tournament at the Country Club of the South. He might play the International, the Canadian Open, the Vantage Championships, the Skins Game, but he isn`t sure.

As he walked up the 18th fairway Friday, Nicklaus received a thunderous standing ovation from the people in the huge bleachers. He waved to one side, then the other, an almost sheepish gesture, for he had sliced his approach shot right and short of the green. He made bogey.

``It may be the last time I come down the 18th fairway in the British Open, it may not be,`` he said. ``I don`t know. It depends on how I`m playing.``

He looked wistful for a moment. Then he thought about his old teacher, who had worked with him from the time he was a chubby kid in Columbus, and who has been dead for five years. ``You know, I really miss Jack Grout,`` he said. ``And not just as a teacher. I miss Jack Grout as a friend. We used to go out to the practice tee five days a week, six days a week, and maybe only one day we`d say something about the golf swing.

``We`d just talk and hit balls. I enjoyed that.``

Nicklaus is not enjoying golf these days. Unless that changes, he will quit playing. He doesn`t want to go out like this. He is looking for a graceful exit. It might come before we know it.